


Inside This Room

by Shiverslightly



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama, Established Relationship, Flashbacks, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Angst, Klance Reverse Bang 2018, M/M, Major Character Injury, POV Keith (Voltron), Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-26 00:26:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14390262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiverslightly/pseuds/Shiverslightly
Summary: Keith watches it happen in slow motion. Watches Lance’s arms flail in an attempt to right himself. Watches as his body falls further over the edge. Their wide, shocked eyes lock together as Keith launches himself forward, desperate to reach the hand that's quickly falling away. Fingers stretching for a target that’s just out of grasp, landing on scraped knees and staring in horror as Lance plummets towards the earth. Those terrified eyes never leaving his face.Keith was never prepared to live a life without Lance in it.





	Inside This Room

**Author's Note:**

> My contribution to this year's [Klance Reverse Bang](https://klancereversebang.tumblr.com/). I was excited to write something for my partner, Emily’s, artwork. Please check out and support her on [tumblr](http://live-for-my-otps.tumblr.com/) and [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/Hysteria.qt/)
> 
> Her only request for her work was _super_ dramatic Klance inspired by Zayn ft. Sia’s [“Dusk Till Dawn”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tt2k8PGm-TI).
> 
> [ **Check out the artwork here!** ](https://shiverslightly.tumblr.com/post/173171179182/inside-this-room-art-by-the-incredible)

The room is dark, the only source of light coming from monitors littered around the bed. Keith stares at them with bleary eyes. The lines and numbers don't make sense but they're moving and he tries to tell himself that it's a good thing. But it's hard to find anything good when there in the middle of that bed, motionless and broken, lies the person that put him together, that made him whole. The only person his heart ever belonged to.

Lance is spread across the bed, IV’s and wires running along his battered body, a ventilator covering his mouth. His eyes are swollen shut, half his head shaved, revealing fresh staples holding a deep, angry gash together.

The jagged remains of Keith’s heart pierce his chest from inside every time he looks at Lance. The conflicting emotions of terrified panic and overwhelming relief with every beep of the heart rate monitor wars within him. His person, his everything, is close enough to touch but feels so far away. Is he even really _there_ anymore?

“Keith.” A gentle voice speaks beside him, a warm hand cups his shoulder.

He doesn't even acknowledge it.

“How are you holding up?”

He drags his weary gaze from Lance to meet the dark grey eyes that are gently on him. Shiro tries to offer a smile but it doesn't reach those eyes.

“M’fine,” Keith slurs, voice hoarse from disuse.

He shrugs out of Shiro’s grasp, moving to the other side of the bed. Reaching out, he runs trembling fingers down Lance’s arm. The tan, honey coloured skin barely visible through all the black and purple bruising.

“Have you eaten?”

He shakes his head.

“Slept?”

His eyes close, blowing out a breath in tired annoyance. “Shiro.”

Why doesn't he see? Why can't he realize that Lance is the one in trouble? _He's_ the priority. Sleep, food, water. They don't matter. _Keith_ doesn't matter.

“Look it's just, you need to take care of yourself. Lance would want-”

“Don't,” Keith hisses with a venom he should feel bad directing at Shiro. “Don't talk about Lance like he's not even here.”

Shiro raises his hands in apology. “Okay. I'm sorry. But you know they won't let you stay here if you don't take care of yourself.”

The familiar burning stings his eyes again but no tears come. He hasn't been able to cry since the first night. Not since the doctors explained the full extent of Lance’s injuries. Despite this his lip still quivers and his voice shakes when he quietly says, “I can't leave him, Shiro.”

He curls in on himself just as Shiro moves around the bed, wrapping strong arms around him while he struggles for breath.

“I - I can't go home.” The thought of going there alone, surrounded by their lives, their memories, is unbearable. “I don't know what to do without him.”

Shiro squeezes him tighter, standing firm and silent. The steady warmth has Keith relaxing into the hold, allowing his loud and scattered thoughts just a moment to quiet. Too soon he brings his hands up to pat Shiro’s elbows before pulling away, feeling guilty for the attention.

“Don't worry about me. Lance is the one who needs it.”

“I’m worried about _both_ of you.” Shiro’s eyes scan over Keith, the frown on his face deepening. “I'll talk to the nurses. See about getting you a cot so you don't have to sleep in the chair.”

Keith hadn't even thought to ask. “Okay.”

“And then I'm going to bring you some food and stay until you've eaten it all. _Okay._ ” It's a command not a question.

“Fine.”

Keith moves his attention back to Lance, watching the way his chest rises with every whir of the ventilator. Bile rises in his throat to see Lance, _bright, adventurous, beautiful Lance,_ clinging so precariously to life. The room spins. He wishes he was anywhere else. Anywhere with Lance holding him in those arms that have kept him safe for so long. If only he could have that again. If only he could have more time.

 _Please_ let him have more time.

 

* * *

 

They met in university freshman year and immediately did not get along. But being in the same program and having mutual friends made it hard to ignore one another. Lance had made it his mission to pick Keith apart, making comments about everything. His hair, his too short jacket and fingerless gloves.

“I just don't get why you try so hard to be cool.”

Keith didn't. And he definitely didn't know why this guy was always so antagonistic but he wasn't about to take that shit lying down. So they fought and bickered and drove their friends crazy. Then slowly, for whatever reason, they both just kind of... stopped. Lance made fewer remarks to get under his skin and Keith stopped rising to the bait. Years later Lance called it growing up but Keith often teased that he’d probably just run out of insults.

The break in fighting had given Keith time to see Lance for who he really was. Lance was smart and funny and an insanely loyal friend and Keith found himself actually enjoying his company. By the start of sophomore year they were legit friends, who even occasionally hung out alone, without Hunk or Pidge. It was during rush week that Lance finally talked Keith into going out to party.

“It's time you let that mullet down,” he'd smirked. “Live a little.”

At first the insult had Keith decisively saying no but it was becoming rather obvious that when it came to Lance he could never deny him for long. So there he found himself in the kitchen of some god awful sorority house, pressed to the wall and trying to grab a drink without having some drunk person hang all over him.

Lance had been pulled onto the makeshift living room dance floor twenty minutes before and Keith planned to drown his disappointment. Finally realizing his feelings for Lance ran a little deeper than ‘just friends’ he could no longer fight the giddy, fluttering feeling that rose inside with Lance’s presence.

“You look like you could use a shot,” a deep voice speaks beside him.

A tall and muscular frat boy stands in front of him, grinning wide, two shot glasses in hand. He thrusts one out in Keith’s direction. “Here. Drink with me.”

“Oh - ah - I'm not really-”

“Aww c’mon man,” he leans in close, grin turning flirtatious. “A pretty boy like you shouldn't drink alone.”

Surprise bubbles up and his mouth drops open. He's been hanging around Lance long enough to know what flirting looks like but he's never been on the receiving end of such a blatant attempt before. His usual quick witted mind fails him.

“Ummm…”

The guy chuckles. “You're cute. Sorry, I didn't mean to come on too strong, I just got a little excited when I saw you.”

“... thanks?” Keith really has no idea how to respond. He's noticed this guy around campus before but never paid much attention. Now up close he can see the guy’s attractive. And his type. And yet…

“Hey guys are we doing shots?” Lance’s loud and too bright voice cuts into Keith's internal struggle. An arm flings itself around Keith's shoulders pulling him tight against Lance’s side. Heat spreads across his face, something even the obvious flirting had failed to do.

Looking between Keith and the frat boy, shot glass still in the guy's hand waiting for Keith, Lance reaches out and takes it. He shoots it back with ease and a quiet ‘ah’.

“Yeeaah.” With furrowed brows directed at Lance the guy hands his other shot, the one that he'd clearly meant to be his own, over to Keith. “I'll just, ah, grab myself another one.”

“That was painful.” Lance smirks at the retreating back. “Dude needs better material if he wants to land someone like you.”

“Like me?” A smile tugs at Keith’s lips as he lifts a quizzical brow.

“Don't play dumb, you know what I'm talking about.”

Buzzing at the praise Keith tries to play it cool, tossing back his shot. “Whatever, you were kind of a dick.”

Lance scoffs. “I think Chad will get over it.”

“You know him?”

Another smirk. “You don't? Typical fuckboy, hits on anything with a pulse, most likely named Chad. Or maybe Brad?… Chet?” Lance rambles, waving a dismissive hand in “Chad's” direction.

“Gee thanks, guess I'm the ‘anything with a pulse’ in this scenario.” Petulance rises in Keith’s voice.

“Awww, if I didn't know any better I'd think you liked him.” Lance looks like he's teasing but there's a hint of something more in his eyes. Something not quite as playful as his banter suggests. “Look I was just checking in on you. Tanya and I are gonna hit the dance floor again, wanted to make sure you were cool.”

“Oh.” Disappointment rears its ugly head in Keith’s stomach again. “Yeah I'm… cool.” He trains his eyes on the wall past Lance’s head.

“Great!” Lance’s voice is once again too bright, maybe even a bit strained if Keith was in any mind to pay attention. As it is he’s too busy pushing down the rising tide of hurt to notice. “I'll, um, see you later then.”

Keeping a tight smile in place until Lance is out of sight he watches as Lance grabs onto some girl's hand and disappears into the house. The lump forming in Keith’s throat is large and he swallows it down while reaching for a beer. After a moment's hesitation he picks up another. The bodies in the kitchen are multiplying, hot and sweaty and way too up in his personal space. Making a beeline for the patio, the soothing chill of outside air washes over him as he flops into a chair far away from any party goers.

This is stupid. His whole Lance sized crush is stupid. They’re friends now, they work well together, so why is that suddenly no longer enough? Sure Lance says flirty things from time to time but he does that with literally _everybody,_ Keith is no one special. They’re only friends and he’s just gonna have to take what he can get. 

Beers finished and heavy with depression, he rises from his chair, wanting nothing more than to go home. First he’ll have to tell Lance he’s leaving.

He doesn't have to go far, Lance hasn't left the dance floor and is apparently having a wonderful time, if the girl’s lewd grinding and Lance’s appreciative grin are anything to go by. Keith almost welcomes the pang of jealousy in his chest. At this point he'd rather be angry than crushed, though truthfully it’s really a bit of both.

“Hey, sorry about earlier.”

Surprised to be spoken to he turns around to see ‘Chad’ smiling bashfully at him. “I should have known you were already with someone.”

Keith lets out a bitter huff. “I'm not. He’s... just a friend.” His eyes travel over to Lance once more, arms are wrapped around his neck as he leans in to whisper something in the girl's ear. Keith winces.

Noticing Keith's line of sight, Chad hums. “Well I’d still love to get a drink with you sometime. If you're interested.”

Hands clasp onto his biceps, tugging gently to capture his attention. When he turns his gaze, Chad is looking at him intently. He steps a little bit closer, hands sliding down Keith’s arms.

“I think we’d have a good time together.”

Keith thinks about it, probably a little longer than he should. Chad would make a good distraction. Even if he only wanted one thing, would that really be so bad? Keith is buzzed and sad and more than a little sexually frustrated but he’s not surprised when the words out of his mouth are, “thanks. But I’m kind of into someone else.”

Chad nods, looking like he expected this answer. “Okay, but if things don’t work out I hope you’ll find me.” He holds Keith’s hands for a second and gives a small squeeze before flashing a smile and letting go.

Releasing a loud, exasperated sigh Keith steels his heart and turns in Lance’s direction intending to say goodbye and get far away from this shitty night. Only Lance isn’t there, and neither is the girl. The two must have ducked out, probably already heading to Lance’s dorm. Keith can’t even find it in himself to be mad, knowing he’s just gonna have to pretend it doesn’t kill him inside when Lance starts bragging tomorrow.

Heading to the room where he'd left his coat, he's searching through the piles of clothing thrown over the beds when someone clears their throat behind him. Jerking in shock, he finds Lance hovering hesitantly just inside the door.

“You, ah, heading out man?” Lance fidgets with the hem of his shirt before sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

Keith sighs. “Yeah.”

“Okay, cool. I'll probably stay here a little longer… maybe dance some more.” Lance is still looking uncomfortable and fidgety, restlessly moving his weight from foot to foot.

Too emotionally strained to worry about whatever's got Lance so anxious Keith resumes his search. Finally finding his coat, he tugs it on, spinning towards the door and Lance.

“You're, um... not really going home with him... are you?” It's said so quietly Keith almost thinks he’s imagined it. But Lance isn't meeting his eyes.

“Who?” he asks, because honestly what is Lance even talking about?

Lance rolls his eyes, finally meeting Keith’s. “Chad,” he all but snarls.

Frustrated anger flares. “Why do you care?”

Who does Lance think he is? He's been practically dry humping some random girl all night.

“I don't,” Lance snaps back.

Glaring into those blue eyes, he's just about to push past when Lance suddenly deflates, eyes dropping to the floor in surrender. But he doesn't move, doesn't make room for Keith to leave. Instead he takes a long, shaky breath. When his eyes raise back to Keith's they’re timid.

“I just... think you could do better.”

The bitterness that had been climbing its way up Keith's chest falls back completely. Normally Lance would have said that last part mockingly but there's no teasing in his voice and his body language is all wrong. He looks genuinely upset at the thought of Keith going home with someone. A wild sort of hope springs up.

“You've said that before,” he says slowly, cautiously moving a little closer. 

Lance shifts on the balls of his feet, replying hesitantly. “Because I - well you do.” His large Bambi eyes clench Keith's heart.

The alcohol from earlier must still be in his system, it's the only thing that explains what he says next.

“Do you… have someone better in mind?” He drops his voice low, aiming for sultry, but it comes out breathless.

He can see the bob of Lance’s Adam’s apple as he swallows, the way Lance’s eyes drop to his lips.

“I might,” comes a hoarse reply.

Keith continues into Lance’s space, mind for once mercifully blank when it should be panicking, drowned out by the rushing swell in his ears. He’s hyper focused on the boy in front of him, on the way his fingers are trembling, how his tongue darts out to lick at his pink lips and how he hasn't backed away. In fact he's leaning in.

Their lips meet in a soft, gentle touch, both boys too shocked to move but then the moment ignites and Keith's eyes are falling closed and his lips are moving, exploring. Lance gasps, mouth parting and all caution is abandoned. They lick into each other, feverish and triumphant. Hands are groping, twining into hair, bodies sliding together, hearts beating fierce and rapid.

Flushed and dizzy, Lance breaks away to suck in a breath. Keith burns with desire, chest heaving as fire spreads over his pale skin.

“I've wanted to do that for a while,” Lance whispers, dropping his forehead against Keith’s and resting his hands on the sides of his neck. “I-” he hesitates, biting at his lip. “I really like you Keith.”

Keith is soaring, floating so high that his heartache from earlier is barely a blip on the landscape. But the raw honesty of Lance’s confession twinges in his chest, so he teases. “You sure? You seemed to be enjoying yourself tonight.”

Lance at least has the decency to look sheepish. “Sorry about that. I may have been trying to get your attention.”

Keith snorts. “You're an idiot.”

“Well it worked didn't it?”

It's not fair. Lance shouldn't look this adorable when he pouts.

“Mmm I don't know, cause now I'm doubting your feelings. Maybe I should just go find Chad…” He starts to pull away, mischievous smirk in place.

“Get your ass back here Kogane,” Lance growls, yanking on his arm to pull him in, grabbing a handful of said ass.

Keith gasps, arousal flushing his cheeks at the manhandling.

“I've wanted to do this for a while too,” Lance purrs, squeezing tighter, eyes darkening.

“Yeah?” Keith breathes. Lance advances against him, staring at his lips once more. “What else have you been wanting to do?”

Their noses brush together, Lance’s lips caressing his own as he’s crowded into the wall.

“Why don't I show you?”

Lance pushes his jacket off his shoulders, a hand slipping under his shirt when he leans in to nibble along the smooth column of his neck.

This time it's much longer before either boy comes up for air.

 

* * *

 

Light filters through his closed eyelids, bursts of red glowing in the darkness. Warm sea spray gently falls across his skin, salt tingling as it dries. The shift of a body close by grabs his attention, soft words whisper in his ear.

_”Keith.”_

A lazy smile spreads when a familiar hand cups his face, fingers dancing lightly along the back of his neck. The body leans closer, hot breath fanning across his face as lips are brought within millimetres of his own.

_”Keith.”_

Slowly he peeks at the voice, blurry eyes the colour of the ocean behind him coming into focus. His heart blazes fiery as the sun, mouth cracking open into a wide grin.

“Hey there,” Lance whispers, pulling back a little to focus on his face. Keith chases after him, pressing their lips together before releasing the breathtaking man in front of him.

Lance chuckles as he sits up. “I didn't want you to miss the sunset.”

Keith blinks up at him, slow moving clouds travelling across the sky, a golden glow bathing Lance’s caramel skin in warmth. He looks stunning, ethereal, illusory.

Keith frowns, despair and longing tugging at the back of his mind.

Concern flashes over Lance’s face, he leans down again, placing a light hand on his shoulder. “What is it?”

He wants to reach out but he's frozen, darkness creeping into the corners of his vision. Lance falls further away.

_”Keith.”_

Wait, he thinks. Stay… please stay with me.

“Mr Kogane.”

His head shoots up, a weight on his shoulder disappearing as the doctor beside him takes a step back. Blinking awake, the fluorescent lit hospital room rushes up around him, his fingers still wrapped around Lance’s limp hand on the bed before him.

“I'm sorry to disturb you but I’m here to discuss Mr McClain’s condition.”

The woman gives a small, gentle smile, waiting patiently for his groggy senses to catch up.

“It's Lance,” he croaks, voice thick from sleep.

“Yes, Lance.” She raises her eyebrows, silently asking if he's ready for her to proceed.

Is he ready? He manages a curt nod.

“I'm Dr Brooks, lead Neurologist on Lance’s team. As you know he was put in a medically induced coma following surgery to treat his head trauma. We've been closely monitoring his recovery and the swelling has decreased significantly, so much that we feel he is stable enough to try and wake him up. I'd like to talk to you about the risks and what to expect.”

After a silent pause she continues. Keith stares numbly. Words like brain injury, disability and chance of survival float by and all he can think is, _why?_ Why is this happening? Why Lance? The room spins once more.

The doctor has stopped talking, head titled as she looks at him questioningly. Not sure what she’s asked he swallows past his dry throat.

“Will - will Lance still -” He cuts himself off, thoughts suddenly too hard to voice overflowing from his mind.

Will he still sigh dramatically with a fond smile when Keith doesn't understand a social norm? Will he still make a smiley face out of his eggs and bacon on Sundays? Will he still hum under his breath, running his fingers through Keith’s hair when he can't fall asleep?

She leans towards him, her eyes full of knowing sympathy. “Will he still be Lance?”

Another nod.

“It’s too early to say. Until he wakes up and we can monitor his brain activity we can’t be sure how symptoms will manifest. His injuries are quite severe, recovery will be difficult and he may not ever be completely the same.”

“But, he will wake up… right?” He hates how small his voice sounds.

“It may take some time, he’s been unconscious for almost a week. There will be some withdrawal from the opiates and he might be confused and frightened, but we're optimistic that he should be awake within 72 hours.”

72 hours. In 3 days he might see those deep sapphire eyes again. He might look into them and see the things he used to see. Love, understanding, _home_. Those things have felt so far beyond his reach these days.

“Okay,” he whispers, eyes back on Lance, fingers wrapped around his hand once more, an exhilarating terror gripping his heart.

“I know it's a lot. I'm here if you have any questions. My door is always open.”

He’s nodding again but he doesn’t look up. He can’t tear his eyes away from Lance.

3 more days, he thinks.

3 more days.

 

* * *

 

“Open the door Keith!”

Lance is pounding on the door of his dorm room, has been for the last minute while Keith stares at it, rooted to the spot. Heart slamming against his chest, ice flashing freezing his veins. That door _cannot_ be opened.

“I know you're in there, I’ll break this door down if I have to.”

He jumps when a loud, crashing bang reverberates through the room. Fuck, Lance _is actually_ going to break it. Body moving without permission the door is unlocked and he's stepping aside, bracing for impact. It doesn't come.

Lance stands just inside the doorway, chest heaving and eyes lit with hot blue rage. Somehow, Keith manages to stand his ground, only making Lance more furious. Stomping inside he slams the door, whirling around and getting in Keith’s face.

“What the fuck Keith?” He slams his palms against Keith’s chest pushing him further into the room. “Why are you avoiding me?”

Keith tries to swallow the heavy thickness in his throat, tries not to let his voice waver. “I'm not.”

Lance eyes him incredulous. “You're not?” He turns away from Keith, pacing a few steps before whipping back. “I haven't heard from you in two weeks. Two weeks Keith!” His face is flushed red, his whole body trembling. “We've been together six months and in all that time we’ve barely gone _two days_ without talking, or at least texting. Now you won't return my calls, you're not going to class. What is going on?” His eyes are turning desperate.

“Nothing.” Keith lies, misery he’s willingly inflicted on himself grasping his stomach. He doesn't know what to say, doesn't know what to do.

“Nothing,” Lance scoffs, getting close once more. He looks like he's going to hit him, Keith wishes he would. But instead he shrinks, shoulders slumping as he bows his head.

Brokenly Lance whispers. “If you're going to break up with me then just do it already. Please don't drag it out.”

It's the hopelessness in his voice that splinters Keith’s heart. Somehow he manages to move his heavy limbs, dread and heartache weighing them down, pawing at Lance's chest.

“I don't want to,” quietly escapes his lips before he can stop it.

Lance looks up, eyes glassy and hurting. “Then why are you doing this?”

Moving away he rips himself from Lance like he has to, telling him as much. “I have to Lance.”

Eyes trained on the floor, his hands run through his hair, trying to distance himself from the pain that's tearing through his body, flaying him alive. The truth comes pouring out unbidden. “You're going to leave. One day you'll go, just like everyone else and I-” he chokes back a sob. “I can't take that.”

“So what? You're gonna do it first? Just toss me aside like I don't even matter?” Angry tears spill down Lance’s face and Keith burns, deserving this agonizing torture.

“You do matter! That's the point!” He shouts, clenching his eyes shut so he doesn't have to look at that beautiful, furious face.

It's quiet for a few moments before he hears it.

“You fucking coward,” Lance spits. Keith's eyes open in shock, never before hearing such hostility come from Lance.

Suddenly he's pushed backwards, thrown against the back of the couch, almost toppling over with the force of it. Lance pokes him hard in the chest. “Are you that afraid of your feelings that you'd rather break both our hearts than feel something good?”

Panicked, Keith darts his eyes across Lance's face, frantic to deny his words. “No, I'm doing it before they _can_. Before it hurts anymore.”

“You're too fucking late Keith!”

Lance stumbles back at his own admission, wrapping his arms around himself like he’s been punched in the gut. Keith feels the same, pressing balled fists harshly into his sides.

“No,” he breathes, ghostly pale. “No, no, no…”

Eyes wide and stinging, he tries to gasp for breath but his throat’s collapsed. Gaping like a fish out of water, panic overriding, he drops to his knees as everything goes dark. He's being wrung from the inside. Heart, lungs, organs are crushed. His head splitting with the pressure. Gentle hands grab his face, spotty vision meeting wet, glittering blue eyes.

Lance is crouched in front, mouthing “breathe” through the ringing in his ears. He focuses on that mouth, ignoring the way those hands scorch into him like a brand. Lips purse, copying the way Lance puckers his in an ‘O’, slowly trying to take a breath. Eventually air sneaks down his windpipe, Lance holding on until they’re both breathing normal, hearts back to a regular rhythm.

“I'm sorry Keith,” Lance whispers after some time. “But I love you,” a thumb swipes across his cheek. “And I think you love me too.”

Keith tries to pull away, heart hammering in panic once more but Lance holds firm. “It's okay,” he smiles, small and wobbly but full of warmth. “You don't have to say it. But I'm not gonna hold back anymore. _I love you_ , I have for a while and,” he holds Keith’s eyes, making sure he's listening. “I _am not_ going anywhere.”

Keith grips onto Lance's wrists, fingernails digging in. “You can't say that, you don't know-”

“I do,” Lance insists. “Let me in and I promise you'll never be alone.” His eyes shine with determination, boring straight into Keith's soul.

Keith's lower lip trembles, body shaking. Tears threaten to spill anew. “L-lance, I-”

“I promise.” 

Dark tempest features dare him to argue but he can only make a strangled sob, fears choking him.

“Shhh,” Lance hushes, wrapping his arms tight around Keith, pulling him close against his warmth. “It's okay. Baby, I'm right here.”

His defenses crumble with the pet name he pretends to hate. Burying his face in the crook of Lance's neck, his hands twist into the soft sweatshirt lying over strong shoulders that hold him up. Tears flow freely as he pushes against his suffering, allowing his insecurities to fall with them, feeling the weight begin to lift. Lance holds him in an iron grip, rocking slowly back and forth, gentle fingertips tracing the line of his spine.

“You won't leave?” He finally whispers, tiny tendrils of hope soothing his battered heart.

“Never.” Lance murmurs, nothing but conviction in his tone.

Hands slide into his hair, lovingly caress his cheekbones, trace along the seam of his mouth in gentle veneration.

“Okay,” Keith says, voice small. Allowing himself for the first time ever to believe it. To trust it.

When Lance takes him to bed that night his heart is torn wide open. Lance worships him reverently, covering every inch of exposed skin in hands and lips. Showing the depths of his devotion without words. Coaxing out moans and pleas with a tender touch and reassuring whispers. When he finally pushes in, Keith’s entire body bursts into flames, the heat of their gliding torsos and pulsing hearts catching in the flare.

It’s not frenzied or rushed but it turns him to ash all the same until he's crying out for Lance to touch him, to hold him, to never let him go. He quivers and shakes, body pulled tight. When Lance takes him in hand and his thrusts turn deep Keith can only grip hard into flesh and hold on, eyes wide and mesmerized.

Lance had been right, he _was_ too late. He was a fool to ever think he hadn't loved him from the very beginning.

 

* * *

 

“Did someone order homemade calzones?”

Keith lifts his heavy head from Lance’s chest. With nothing to do but wait, he's taken to pressing his ear against Lance’s heart, listening hard for any changes in its steady beat. Desperate for a sign that he’s waking up. Instead crushing dread overtakes his nerves every passing minute Lance stays unconscious, tricking his mind into thinking it's somehow getting slower.

Hunk stands on the other side of the bed, his large frame almost completely blocking Pidge from sight until she's ducking past his elbow and holding up three cans of pop.

“Please just hand them out already,” she whines, pulling up a chair and plopping down. “I’m starving, my stomach started eating itself about twenty minutes ago.”

Rolling his eyes Hunk ruffles Pidge’s hair before dropping a calzone into her waiting hands. She's been sassier than usual, using humour as a way to cover her own stifling fears. But it's usually good natured enough to lighten the mood. If Lance could, he’d appreciate her efforts.

Ambling over to Keith’s side, Hunk cautiously lays the food on the bed in front of him, going back to slide his own chair up beside Pidge. Since that visit of Shiro’s a couple days after the accident their friends have been stopping by at least once a day on the pretense of checking up on Lance. But they always show up with food around meal times and never leave until Keith’s eaten. He knows Shiro’s behind it, making sure he gets at least some sustenance. He should probably feel grateful but that emotion’s been lost to him for over a week.

“How's he doing today?” Hunk quietly asks.

Defeated before he even opens his mouth Keith only shrugs. He quietly picks at his calzone, tiny pieces he wills himself to swallow.

Reaching over, Pidge plucks a chart from the end of Lance’s bed, skimming over the first page, careful not to drip sauce over it.

“Still nothing?”

“It's only been 48 hours,” Keith rasps. “There's still time.”

A mantra he’s been repeating in his head since yesterday.

_There’s still time. There's still time. There’s still-_

“He's going to make it.”

Startled he lifts his gaze to Hunk and finds the man staring determinedly at Lance’s face. No matter how many times he's had to leave the room in an attempt to hide his tears, no matter how many times his voice had cracked while speaking those very words, Hunk’s faith in Lance has never wavered. It's like a balm against the open wounds of Keith’s raw soul.

Hunk meets his eyes. “In all the time I've known him, I've never seen him give up. He won't give up now.”

Keith swallows against the intensity of that look, willing himself to feel the same conviction.

“Damn right he won't.” Pidge gives Hunk’s arm a squeeze. “Remember freshman year when he went home for two weeks after his Grandma got sick?”

He's nodding but he wasn't really _there_ for it. At the time they were still mostly at each other's throats, so Keith spent his days trying to ignore his overwhelming sense of inadequacy. A part of him had wanted to reach out to Lance but he didn't know how to bridge the petty chasm between them. In the end he'd convinced himself that Lance wouldn't want his help anyway. He still beats himself up about it.

“Oh yeah,” Hunk jumps in. “Iverson had refused to give him an extension on his midterms, so he flew back literally right after her funeral to take them the next day.”

Pidge is nodding, a far away, tiny smile on her face. “We stayed up all night studying and memorizing flashcards. He made up ridiculous songs to remember all the equations, probably drank about three gallons of coffee, tucked us into bed when we accidentally fell asleep and then went off and aced them all. The look on Iverson’s face when the results came in!”

Hunk is chuckling beside her. “I still wish I’d taken a picture.”

They grin at each other while Keith tries to picture it, might even feel the slightest tug against the corners of his mouth.

“Or what about when he wanted to do something _big_ for him and Keith’s two year anniversary?”

Instantly his chest seizes at the memory. Lance had picked him up from his dorm and promptly blindfolded Keith before they’d even left the building, despite his many protests and grumblings. But the night had ended dancing under artificial stars with his entire body alive and glowing in the certainty that no one would ever love him as much as Lance. That no one’s heart could ever be as full as his was in that moment.

“ _Do I_? I had to put up with months of his planning, feeding him while he worked himself to exhaustion with all the extra shifts, helping him bribe the Planetarium security guard to let them in after hours. He even got you to hack into their system and program a meteor shower into the show.”

“Some of my best work,” Pidge boasts.

It's both too much and not enough. An empty ache that won't go away. Remembering the good in Lance, how everything he ever did, even if it was just a smile, somehow made the world around them better. _Brighter_. He blinks against the throbbing of his eyes, the dry burning that days later still hasn’t spilled over.

Two different hands are suddenly enclosing over his own from across the bed, one large and warm, the other light and sure.

“He’s going to be okay Keith.” Pidge’s voice is delicate in the face of his grief.

“We-” he swallows the lump in his throat, eyes always on Lance’s face. He hasn’t told anyone yet. Hasn’t been able to face what he fears is slowly slipping through his fingers.

“We’re engaged.”

Silence screams throughout the room. His confession searing through his vocal chords.

“Th-that’s why we were up there… he - he proposed.”

When he can no longer take the oppressing quiet between them he looks up. Hunk and Pidge wear matching masks of shocked pity. Guilt and something nameless spreads from his chest, numbing him down to his metatarsals as he looks back on the deep yellow, blue bruises across Lance’s cheeks.

“That’s-” the large, warm hand squeezes gently with a dry gulp. “Congratulations, man.”

“Yeah,” he replies, heart sinking further into the black hole of his despair.

 

* * *

 

“Lance, where are you taking me?”

“Nope. I'm not telling you so you might as well stop asking.”

Huffing, Keith folds his arms across his chest, slumping further down his seat. He's been grilling Lance for twenty minutes already but the man has remained surprisingly hushed.

“You woke me up at 4 in the morning, the least you could do is tell me why,” he grumbles, fixing his grumpiest glare out the window.

“So impatient,” Lance tsks. “Relax baby, we’ll be there soon.”

A soothing palm rubs the top of his thigh, the lights of the dashboard illuminating Lance’s smirk. Keith drops his head against the headrest with a groan, allowing his tired eyes to close. 

Not meaning to drift he’s surprised when the next thing he knows he's being gently shaken awake, warmth radiating off the body leaned across him.

“Keith, we’re here.”

“Hmm?” 

The haze of sleep slowly lifts as he rubs his eyes, slightly confused. They're in the empty parking lot of a National Park, the headlights of their car landing on a large trailhead map looming ahead. He blinks.

“What the hell?”

“What?”

“What are we doing here?”

“Ah, we're going hiking,” Lance says to Keith as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, but-

“Its pitch black out.”

“Mhm, that's why I brought these.”

Lance digs around in his pack for a moment, scrunching his nose, tongue peeking out adorably, until he pulls out a light, sliding the wide elastic band that's attached over his head. He grins at Keith while adjusting the light to sit on his forehead.

Keith can't help his amused snort. “You look ridiculous.”

“I do not!”

He snorts again. “I'm not wearing that.”

“Oh come on.”

“Nope,” he says, popping the p and echoing Lance from earlier.

Lance eyes him with an exasperated look. “Fine, but don't get mad at me when you can't see where you're going.”

“Why are we even doing this in the dark?”

Sighing, Lance’s shoulders droop, losing a bit of his excitement. “Why are you being so difficult? Can’t a guy just be fun and spontaneous for his boyfriend once in a while?”

Pleading eyes hit Keith square in the chest. It’s obvious this means something to Lance though he has no idea why, but his irritation from the early wake up is clearly dampening Lance’s spirits. He hates the look Lance gives him, his eyes a little dimmer than they were a second ago. With a heavy, apologetic sigh he pushes up in his seat, lifting his hands to grab Lance’s face and guide him close.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers as Lance leans in. “It’s just… early.”

With a chuckle Lance gently brushes the messy bangs from Keith’s eyes, pressing a light kiss to his forehead, lingering lips against his skin. “I know. But you’ll like this, I promise.”

He leans back, Lance’s warm hand sliding to grasp the back of his neck as they share a look, Keith’s soft and fond, Lance’s eyes bright once more.

“Think of it as an adventure. Something to tell our kids about.”

A familiar thrill shoots through him, the same one he tries to ignore every time Lance mentions something like this. The idea of having children absolutely terrifies him, but the fact that Lance would want that with him, would want to _be with him_ for that long never fails to send his heart floating among the clouds. He finds himself smiling shyly, averting his gaze and finally getting out of the car.

The hike starts out easy enough, a wide wandering path that must be following the curve of a stream if the trickling sound of water is any indication. The cold, night air wraps around them but it's calming and gentle, bringing a sense of peace as they quietly integrate themselves into the scenery. It only lasts so long before the path narrows, quickly rising in a sharp, twisting incline. Keith manages to almost roll his ankle no less than three times before he finally caves and asks for a headlamp, still refusing to actually wear it. It works just fine as a flashlight.

Slightly ahead of him Lance leads the way, uncharacteristically quiet. Asking if he’s alright, all Keith gets is a shrug of his shoulders and a quickly mumbled response about the hike being hard. There's definitely something off but Keith lets it go. Sometimes his excitable boyfriend gets a little too worked up over things, the reality never living up to the hype he's built in his head. He shuffles a little closer and grabs Lance’s hand, smoothing a thumb over his wildly beating pulse.

They wind their way further up what is now clearly a mountain, their steep trajectory continuing on and on. The sky slowly begins to lighten, Lance urging them to pick up the pace as it does. Soon enough thick trees begin to spread, the skyline becoming visible through their trunks. A dark band of purple appears at the edge and Keith’s slow moving brain _finally_ figures out why Lance would drag him up a mountain at ass o’clock in the morning.

A large gap in the trees suddenly gives way to a rocky outcropping that Keith finds themselves standing above. A perfect, breathtaking view of the valley below and large, snow dusted peaks in the distance. He can just make out their silhouettes in the dark but as the purple begins to stretch and rise along the horizon, lighter blues and the hint of orange start to emerge.

“Wait!” Lance calls, bodily turning him back to face the trees from which they came. “Don’t look yet, okay.”

Then he’s darting behind, leaving Keith alone to stare at nothing but forest, ignoring the way Keith groans his name.

“No peeking!” he calls to Keith. The sound of a zipper opening and the rustling of Lance’s pack filtering their way towards him.

He tries not to let his impatience show, let it break through and spoil the surprise Lance has no doubt been planning for a while now. He thinks he’s managed to pull it off when a tinkling laugh breaks through the silence.

“Alright you can stop sulking now.”

Turning about face he’s just about to snark something back when it dies in his throat. Their red and blue checkered picnic blanket is laid out near the edge of the overhang, adorned with a couple plates of breakfast goodies, a thermos that Keith prays is full of coffee, and small speakers he hadn't even noticed softly playing their favourite tunes. There's even a small vase with two wildflowers Lance must have picked somewhere during their trek up.

He doesn't want to melt into the helpless, moon eyed pile that he does but it really can't be helped. Lance discovered his weakness for overly romantic gestures long ago, despite how much he claims otherwise. With a smile that's tender and knowing Lance takes his hand, oblivious to the catch of Keith’s heart.

“Come on,” he says quietly. “We're going to miss the sunrise.”

It's hard to tear his eyes from the man before him. His soft, blue eyes shining in the growing light, short brown hair wisping in the slight breeze. His plush, pink lips curved in the way that looks best, smiling at Keith like he's something to treasure, something worth keeping. But somehow he manages to look beyond, a quiet inhale stalling in his throat at the gentle brilliance of the brightening sky.

The orange that moments ago was just a pinprick has grown, stretching across the horizon, giving way to softer hues of reds and yellows. Lingering clouds scattered across the troposphere taking on a pinkish tinge. Keith thinks of cotton candy and summers gone by, holding hands with Lance and laughing on the boardwalk of their favourite seaside escape.

He doesn't even realize he's been led to the blanket until a hand tugs him down.

“C’mere.” Lances murmurs, splaying his legs wide to arrange for Keith to sit between.

Squirming to find the perfect spot, pressed back against Lance and head on his shoulder, Keith relaxes. Lance’s warm breath stirs the hair at his temple, arms wrap tightly around his waist and those lips he'd been admiring brush against his skin, sending goosebumps to cover the area underneath.

For the briefest moment he allows his eyes to flutter shut, a hum that could almost be classified as purring rumbling from his chest. He feels light, weightless, suspended in this moment almost literally above the world. Safe in the arms of the man he loves and who somehow, magically loves him in return.

“You know, most people watch the sunrise with their eyes open,” Lance teases.

Smiling against the warmth that begins to wash across his face, his eyes slit open to see the fiery orb of the sun finally inch itself above the horizon, lighting the sky and bathing them in its luminous glow. They sit in silence, breathing each other’s air and tracking the sun. The stirrings of the world beyond unable to reach their silent perch.

Somewhere along the way Lance pushes coffee into his hands but even that's not enough to stop the growling of his stomach. Silently Lance hands him a muffin and immediately goes back to nuzzling his nose into the crook of Keith’s neck, snuggling his body heat closer. The movement draws Keith’s attention to a powerful beating against his back. Lance’s heartbeat too fast and frantic to be calm, even in the face of the natural beauty that surrounds them.

Suspicion rises for the second time. His earlier assumption that Lance was too caught up in anticipation no longer seeming relevant.

“Everything okay?” He turns to face Lance, sweetly brushing lips across skin.

An awkward stillness ticks, broken by the gulp of Lance’s hard swallow before the man lifts his eyes, something like determination flaring within them.

“Yeah I'm good, just need a napkin. I left my backpack by the trees, could you get it?”

Taking a second to gauge Lance’s words against the energy he can almost _hear_ thrumming through Lance’s veins he decides again not to push. When something bothers Lance it's never long before it’s spilled to Keith anyway.

But that doesn't stop him from groaning exaggeratedly, making a show of painfully peeling himself from Lance to get up. The resultant fond chuckle he gets for his efforts exactly what he was aiming for. It's not until he's reached the pack and turns back that his stomach drops and the air in his lungs rush out in one fell swoop.

Because there in front of him, in the very spot he'd left him, kneels Lance. Down on one knee with an unmistakable tiny black box in hand and a somewhat shaky smile plucking at every one of Keith’s heart strings.

Time stands still, his legs move on their own. Closer to Lance. Closer to his _future_. He remembers the way the sun shimmered against Lance’s face, smooth and dark and perfect. How that shaky smile grew wider with every second he drew near. How his trembling fingers and stuttering heart was nothing compared to the certainty that his entire being wanted this.

“Hey baby,” Lance smiles, the warmth of it rivalling the sun. “There's something I wanted to ask you.”

He finds his voice, weak as it is. “Lance-”

“Wait,” Lance pleads. “I’ve got a whole speech.”

This is normally where Keith would groan and complain, but he’s too shocked to do anything but stare. Lance watches him a moment before dropping his eyes to Keith’s mouth, not quite making eye contact. A hard concentration marking his features.

“Do you remember all those years ago when I promised that you'd never be alone?”

He nods ever so slightly.

“I meant what I said. Even though we were just starting out I already knew. I'm never as happy as when I'm with you. I want to be with you _always_. I want to be there for all of your sunsets and all of your sunrises.”

At this Lance raises those eyes back up to meet Keith’s, lips parting as he takes him in. Noticing how Keith widens his own eyes against the tears that are _not_ forming.

“I've, ah… always known th-that… uh-” he starts to look lost, eyebrows furrowing before they smooth out and he's whispering, reverent and awed. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

Keith's whole body is trembling now, so much that his knees give out and he drops in front of Lance. Devoted blue eyes glisten in the gentle light, freezing him in place. Slowly, tender hands cup his face.

“There's more but I - _fuck_ \- I can't even _think_ when you look at me like that.” It's said so soft and honest and okay _now_ the tears are starting to form. He desperately tries to hold them back.

In front of him Lance briefly closes his eyes, fighting his own internal struggle with a deep breath. Leaning in, he gently rests their foreheads together before opening them once more.

“I love you and I -” Another deep breath, another small smile. He can see Lance struggle with his words, watches as he gives it up, sets his jaw and squares his shoulders. “Keith, will you marry me?”

Lower lip quivering, he needs his own steadying breath. A traitorous tear slides down his face, Lace nimbly sweeping it up with his thumb. Those fathomless, sparkling blue eyes almost steal his voice with the amount of love he sees. Love for _Keith_ written so plainly within them. But he manages, somehow, to quietly breathe the only word that's shouting in his head.

“Yes.”

A moment passes where the word sinks in.

“Yeah?” Lance whispers, a little shocked and a lot wondrous.

Together they float, too light and free to even be considered a part of this world anymore. Transcended to some astral plane of existence, arrested in time. Happiness bursts across his skin in tiny pops of electric joy.

He's kissing Lance before either can speak again, one hand fisted into the front of Lance’s shirt and the other cupped tightly against the back of his neck. It's forceful and strong and way too passionate for what the moment calls for but he doesn't care, not when he feels like he can't get close enough.

With wet faces they breathlessly laugh between kisses, taking their time and falling into a hitching, giddy rhythm. It's a long time before they let each other go. Before they even notice the calling birds, the sounds of a waking forest.

No longer shaking, Lance pops the box forgotten in his hands and reaches for Keith’s finger. A dark metal band sliding into place, simple in its timeless, sturdy promise. Humming to himself as he studies Keith’s hand, Lance places a light kiss against the ring. For reasons unknown Keith feels the red bloom of heat across his cheeks.

“I love you.” Lance smiles, eyes lifting from over his hand.

“I love you too.”

It's a simple fact, obvious and irrefutable. Lance belongs to him, and he belongs to Lance. He’ll _always_ belong to Lance.

They sit together a little longer, not yet wanting to rejoin the real world. But eventually the hunger overtaking their stomachs decides it's time to go. The snacks Lance packed long since run out.

Keith’s packing up their picnic and remaining garbage when Lance steps a little closer to the edge, leaning over to check out the valley. It's then that a gust of wind flows through, picking up a napkin and sending it hurtling towards Lance.

“Shit,” Keith mutters, outstretched arm not long enough to catch it.

Turning at the commotion Lance sees the napkin fly by, instinctively darting towards it when his foot suddenly steps too far, slipping down the side of the ledge.

Keith watches it happen in slow motion. Watches Lance’s arms flail in an attempt to right himself. Watches as his body falls further over the edge. Their wide, shocked eyes lock together as Keith launches himself forward, desperate to reach the hand that's quickly falling away. Fingers stretching for a target that’s just out of grasp, landing on scraped knees and staring in horror as Lance plummets towards the earth. Those terrified eyes never leaving his face.

Lance's name is torn from his throat as he cries out, watching the way his body bounces off a boulder that must be at least twenty feet down. Only to be thrown like a rag doll further down the side and out of sight.

He’s frozen in panic. He's sprinting down the path. He's fighting back nausea and the terrible noise in his head that's telling him there's no way Lance could’ve survived. 

There's a crowd gathered by the time he gets there but he tears through them like paper. A woman is holding Lance’s head and he tries to throw her out of the way but someone is yanking him back, yelling about paralysation and keeping Lance’s neck in place. Someone else is on the phone, the distant whir of a helicopter blocked by the screaming in his ears. Lance’s body is mangled, torn and broken, the amount of blood pooling underneath his head horrific.

A voice in his ear tells him that Lance is alive and he collapses to the ground, crawling his way towards Lance to gingerly grab at his hand. He doesn't believe it until he's ripped away from Lance once more, Search and Rescue rolling Lance’s body onto a slat and loading him into the nearby helicopter. Keith can't ride with him, there's no room, he'll have to drive himself, but he can't speak, can still barely understand what's happening. Someone takes him to the hospital.

The ride is excruciatingly slow yet moves in a blur. He's curled into himself the whole way, trying to slow the way his heart hemorrhages inside his chest. Filled with desperation.

Lance is already in surgery when he gets there and he's told to wait. It's not until ten hours later that he finally sees Lance. In the ICU the doctors explain his injuries, his surgery, his slim chance of recovery. Then he’s alone, with Lance’s patched and bandaged form and the reality of _everything_ hitting him at once.

He falls to Lance’s side, needing to be in that bed beside him, but there's wires and tubes and the terrifying knowledge that he’ll only do more harm. So he hunches against the side of the bed, thin sheets soaked through with tears in seconds but that's how he stays. His heart and mind decimated. Shattered like most of the bones in Lance’s body.

 

* * *

 

The room is dark, except for the monitors. The way it’s been every night they've spent in this soul crushing place. The whir of the ventilator taunting Keith.

Hunk and Pidge left shortly after his confession, not even Pidge’s wit able to recover. Keith, stuck in his memories, had barely noticed them leave.

Now he drowns in them. Sees the things he could have done. Each one a weight that drags him under. He sees the ways he could have stopped it. Sees the ways he failed to save Lance. Because at the end of the day that's what it is. That’s what's been mocking him through the machines that have kept Lance alive all this time. His failure.

He never deserved Lance, but he definitely deserves this. It’d never made sense to him before. That Lance could love him. That Lance could _want_ him. He'd never done anything in his life to warrant the love of such an open, tender, beautiful soul. And yet Lance had loved him all the same. Had not only loved him despite it, but _because_ of it.

Because Lance would hate this. Hate the things Keith says to himself in the shadows of this room. He'd been horrified the first time Keith had whispered his truths against him. Had worked so hard to prove to Keith that he was worth more. Had held Keith’s beaten spirit with kid gloves until Keith had believed that maybe he did have a right to love.

He knows better now. Knows that the universe would never give something as broken as him happiness. That Lance was destined to be yet another thing to lose. He feels sick at the idea of Lance being used against him. Lance, who would always be so much brighter than this.

Despair grows by the second, the black hole now threatening to devour him. A drop splashes on the hand that's clutching Lance’s in a vice like grip. It takes a moment to register it's his. Tears wrung out from the expansive pressure that builds in his chest, collapsing his lungs, tightening his throat. Longing and a _need_ for Lance so powerful it's all consuming.

Laying his head on Lance’s chest he violently shakes. Sobbing as if his tears could put Lance back together, as if all the broken parts inside himself could be used to make Lance whole.

“Baby,” he chokes, despising how it's taken this long to return the pet name. That it's taken _this_ for him to say it at all.

“C-come ba-ck to m-me… p-pl-please.” 

Another round of strangled sobs wracks through his body until he's hoarse and gasping for breath. Lifting his hand to tenderly touch Lance’s face, ignoring the tears and mucus still streaming, he lays his forehead to Lance’s temple. Voice trembling as he quietly whispers his desolate plea.

“ _Please_.” Then even softer. “Baby, I'm right here.”

Fear, anguish, desire, every emotion that's clung to him in death's grip gets washed away until he's nothing but an empty husk. Too weak, too exhausted, too strung out to feel anything but oblivion overtake him. Hunched over and listening to the pulse of a heart he might never possess again.

In the dead of night, too weak to rouse him, the fingers under his hand begin to twitch.

 

* * *

 

He wakes to a flurry of activity. Hands lifting him off Lance and asking him to move aside. With confused alarm he gets up, searching for someone to explain what's going on. On the bed in front of him Lance’s hands are grasping the bedsheets, his head slowly shaking back and forth in agitation. Keith’s heart skips a beat.

“He's waking up,” Dr Brooks explains from beside him, causing him to jump.

She glances his way before giving the nurse at the bed an order, two drips of morphine.

“It might be better if you weren't here for this,” she says. “It could be upsetting for both of you.”

It takes a moment to realize she's speaking to him, attention caught on Lance’s face, specifically his eyelids that have started to flutter. Trying to step forward he finds he can't, body too stunned to obey him.

“I'm not leaving,” he croaks.

The doctor says nothing more but gives his arm a squeeze, leaving his side to go to Lance’s. He thinks a groan leaves the lips that are pursing underneath the ventilator but it's hard to hear anything in all the commotion. What he does know is that Lance’s eyes are starting to crack open, seeing the movement underneath those long dark lashes.

Finally spurred into action, Keith is determined to be one of the first things Lance sees. He pushes his way near the bed, careful not to disturb the nurses bustling around and alert them to his presence. Lance's eyes open further, head still groggily moving towards the sounds of the room.

“Mr McClain?” Dr Brooks asks softly. “Lance can you hear me?”

This time for sure Keith hears his groan, can see the muscles in his neck working. Then suddenly those eyes are flying open as Lance becomes aware of the tube shoved down his trachea. He chokes against it, hands flying up but they’re quickly pinned down.

“Lance please stay calm and we can remove the tube.”

But he's not calm, if anything he thrashes harder. Keith latches onto Lance’s shin, trying to calm them both with gentle circles against his leg. Blue eyes flash to his, breath catching. This is it. This is what he's been waiting for, what he's been praying for since Lance first fell off that cliff. Except it's not what he was expecting and it's terrible in its reality.

Lance looks right through him, like he's no different than any of the strangers crowded over him. Keith didn't know there was anything left of his broken heart that could possibly break further, but it happens.

Those blue eyes are pulled back to the doctor, who’s leaning over him and quickly undoing the ventilator so they can remove his tube. Seeming to finally understand what's happening, Lance relaxes infinitesimally. Or at least he stops thrashing, chest still heaving far too wide for someone with ten broken ribs. As the tube comes out Lance coughs and retches, wincing at the pain.

“It's okay Lance, you're okay,” the doctor is saying, patting his side in a gentle manner.

Gritting his teeth Lance moves as if to sit up and Keith is beside him, putting a hand to his chest before he even realizes.

“Don't move baby. Stay still.”

His voice shakes even as he tries to be firm, hand grasping lightly at the front of Lance’s gown. Through watery eyes he looks down at Lance, catching those sapphire ones once more. They widen and scrunch underneath confused eyebrows, no warmth or comfort to be found within.

“Wh-who...?” Lance's voice is like sandpaper, rough and hard. Tearing through Keith's bleeding wounds. He flinches away from Keith, scared and unsure.

Keith, who feels the ground fall out from under him. Everything inside falling into that abyss as well.

“Mr Kogane I think it's best if you leave.”

He gapes wide eyed at Dr Brooks but he's already backing away, desperate to run from his worst fear realized. Lance has already looked away, moved his focus to the doctor. Still looking scared. Still looking broken.

Stumbling into the hallway and crashing against the wall just outside, he falls. The throbbing remains of his heart and wretched sounds in his throat ripped out. In the fetal position, face pressed to knees, arms are suddenly wrapping around him, a weight pressed against his back.

“Keith?” A feminine voice cries. “What's happened?”

Allura pulls him upright, kneeling with her arms around his shoulders and Shiro standing behind. Both with looks reflecting his own horror.

“He’s awake,” he gasps, shivering. It runs the entire length of his body, up to his bottom lip that he bites in an attempt to gain control. “H-he doesn't… remember me.”

Fingers clenching into the arms of Allura’s sweater, he falls apart. How had he even remained whole before now?

“Oh Keith,” she whispers, pulling his face to her chest. Cradling him tightly in her arms. “They said this might happen. That he might be confused.”

It rings in his ears, echoing like a distant memory of words spoken. Ones he doesn't remember.

“It'll be okay.”

She starts to rock. 

“I know it will, just... give him some time.”

 

* * *

 

Fifteen hours later, Keith is exhausted. Bones weary in a way that almost makes him wish their roles were reversed. Still he’s unable to leave Lance’s side but he tries to keep his distance. He doesn't want to scare him when he wakes again.

Too afraid to lay down his head, silently he watches the way Lance’s chest rises and falls on its own now, the room eerily quiet without the ventilator. Even the steady beeping of Lance’s heartbeat on the monitor sounds more subdued.

What ifs run through his mind, trying to prepare himself for a future where Lance never remembers. Praying that somehow he can find a way to stay in Lance’s life. Maybe if he can just have that, it would be enough. 

Always he watches that slow moving chest. Unaware of anything else in the room. Unaware that he's been drifting ever closer until a hand, cold and dry, slides into his, Barely there, but the touch is electric.

Whipping round he's shocked to find Lance watching him, something close to careful uncertainty battling in the depths of his eyes.

With a shaky smile, heart beating at a frighteningly erratic tempo, he says the only coherent thought in a brain full of jumbled emotions.

“I should get the doctor.”

He starts to pull away, needing just a moment to gather himself. To stop himself from jumping Lance, from burying his face in the crook of his neck, from telling him how much he needs him, from trying to kiss him until everything else fades away. But the hand around his tightens, stopping him from moving further. Lance is staring at his chest, eyebrows furrowed like he's trying to remember something.

“Could you... stay?” It's still just an echo, the faintest hint of the voice he loves but it sends its thrill all the same.

“Do you?” Keith can hardly bring himself to ask, dreading the answer but needing to know. “Know who I am?”

Tentatively Lance raises his eyes, the ghost of a smile somewhere hidden in his features. There's hesitancy, but there's no longer fear. 

“I…” That voice gives out, Lance licking his lips to try again. “I think so.”

And this, Keith thinks, is enough. If all he gets is a murmured answer that's barely the truth, Lance still wants Keith to stay.

 _Dear god_ is that enough.

 

* * *

 

The recovery is difficult. Lance’s pain excruciating on bad days, unbearable on good. It takes time for his memories to piece back together, the trauma of his head injury quickly making itself known. Lance is quicker to get angry, his frustration with being confined to the room, with not understanding a lot of things that are being said, causing him to lash out and shut down.

Keith tries to weather these changes but as time drags on it's with flagging patience. He continues to try as best as he can but on the days when it becomes too much, expectations versus reality tearing into them, their friends are there to mend the fractures. To keep them from causing permanent damage.

They’re forced to relearn each other. To discover new uncertainties, new ticks and new ways to deal with one another. It takes time but in the end they’re lucky.

Two and a half years later and Lance is considered fully recovered. The broken bones of his body healed, besides a slight limp when he’s tired and the fact there are now metal rods in three parts of his skeleton. Neurology gives him the green light as well, in all areas. Long term issues still unknown but with yearly checkups they’re confident that if anything arises it’ll be caught in plenty of time to deal.

Which brings them to the present, standing in front of their closest friends and family. The fading light of a large, red sun painting the sky in pinks, yellows and blues. Fairy lights twinkling above their heads and reflected in each other’s eyes. Lance had insisted that now was the perfect time to commemorate. After everything they’d been through, now more than ever they deserved to have this moment. Keith couldn’t have agreed more.

“Today is a celebration,” Coran speaks from behind them, having surprised everyone when he announced he was an ordained minister. “A celebration of love, of commitment, of friendship and of two people who are in it for forever.”

Across from him Lance smiles. A private, doting smile that takes Keith’s breath away. He skims the pads of his fingers against Lance’s palms in gentle worship.

“The ability and desire for one human being to love another is perhaps the most precious and fulfilling gift that has been entrusted to us. It is an all-consuming task, a lifelong endeavor. Loving someone is a reason to stretch beyond our limits, to become more for the sake of the other. It is to look into the soul of your beloved and accept what you see.”

Looking into that soul now, Keith sees that acceptance. Of himself and of Lance. Of the life they’ve built together and the future they’ve yet to have.

“Today Lance and Keith have chosen to keep with tradition and pledge their oaths in the words that have been spoken devoutly by couples before them. Lance if you would repeat after me.”

Keith listens as Lance repeats his vows, eyes glued to the curving tilt of his mouth as he promises himself to Keith. The traditional vows taking on new meaning after the trials of their last three years.

“And now Keith, if you will.”

Never moving his gaze from the bottomless azure eyes that stare back into his, he speaks.

“I, Keith, take you, Lance, to be my lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward.”

He smiles as a tear silently falls down Lance’s cheek.

“For better, or for worse.”

If he had learned anything from the year of Lance’s recovery it was that they could handle worse. They would _always_ be able to handle worse. This much he could promise to Lance.

“For richer, for poorer.”

They were drowning in debt from Lance’s hospital and therapy bills. Keith had even taken on two jobs for a time so that Lance could focus on his therapies without worrying about bills. They may not have much but as long as they were together, Keith felt wealthy.

“In sickness and in health.”

His voice wavers against the magnitude of knowing what loving someone through sickness can truly mean. But he’s already proven to himself that he would never leave Lance’s side, that nothing would tear him away.

“Till death do us part.”

Lance grasps tightly onto his hands, trying and failing to discreetly mop his tears with his shoulder. In the crowd of their friends, Hunk steps up to the platform, wiping Lance’s face for him while ignoring his own quiet sniffles. From the front row the chuckles of Pidge and Matt, Shiro and Allura can be heard.

“I believe Lance has one more thing to say before I pronounce your marriage.”

Lifting an eyebrow Keith wonders why he’s even surprised. After all this time he should have seen this coming. Lance laughs softly before stepping closer, their chests almost touching, the wild beat of Keith’s heart syncing up with Lance’s. 

“Since we’re making promises there’s just one more I want to make official,” he whispers, hands dropping Keith’s to glide slowly up his arms as he speaks.

“I promise that you’ll never be alone.”

Lance’s hands trail up, leaving tiny shivers in their path, stopping at the sides of Keith’s neck, holding him tenderly.

“I’ll be with you from dusk till dawn.”

Behind them the sun has dipped below the horizon but the sky is still brilliant, a multitude of colours to light their union. Lance runs his thumbs under the line of Keith’s jaw, tilting his head back, bringing their lips closer together.

A spark lights Lance’s eyes.

“Baby, I’m right here.”

Keith’s heart catches fire, an, “I love you,” falling from his lips before they’re silenced, before he and Lance burn together. Igniting in the promise of love unconditional.

Sealed with a kiss from the only person his heart ever belonged to.

 

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: [shiverslightly.tumblr.com](https://shiverslightly.tumblr.com/)


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